


Club's Club

by DemonicPiano



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Human, Cardverse, Cardverse AU, Hetalia Countries Using Human Names, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-30
Updated: 2020-01-30
Packaged: 2021-02-27 04:06:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,894
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22470757
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DemonicPiano/pseuds/DemonicPiano
Summary: After an incident with Spades leaves King Ivan down another court member, he finds himself empty handed and in urgent need of a Queen AND a Jack. It's going to be a feat in itself to restore the space left behind since it's improbable to just 'bump' into somebody worthy of the Clubian throne while on the street...right? Ivan might wind up being lucky, after all.
Kudos: 7





	Club's Club

_'To King Ivan Braginsky of Clubs,_

_Please take a moment and consider this letter. I am well aware of the less-than savory notes my brother passed along. Allow me to offer my most unbiased recollection of last fortnight's events, as I hope not to spark an unnecessary war between our Kingdoms._

_Your Jack is dead. It was my arrow that pierced his throat upon our summit. However, be aware he has pursued our Queen Arthur, and I was forced to act if he was not to fall due to your Jack's hand. Dmitri has taken Queen Arthur prisoner without your consent, and when you discovered this, you immediately set out to give him back to us. All that shouting, the betrayal, he made it known between all of us that his motives was to have the upper hand from his own doing. He was going to kill our Queen as soon as Arthur's back was turned to come home._

_I heard you in that field. You stopped your Knights from escalating the problem in retaliation when my arrow slipped. I know you feel the same way. No unnecessarily bloodshed._

_You're without a Queen and a Jack now. As a token of my deepest condolences, by my hand, Spades offers you any appropriate aid if you wish to reach for it in these troubling times. I wish for you and your Kingdom a rapid recovery._

_Regards,_

_Matthew Jones,_

_Ace of Spades.'_

Sincere bullshit.

King Ivan tore the parchment in two. The halves fluttered to the floor as he stormed from the ever-growing pile of grievance letters, the empty throne chairs, everything in this Kingdom cursed with luck. No Queen. No Jack. His hand was empty. The game was drawing to a close, far from his favor.

He stopped before the doorway leading to the entrance hall, leading to the outside, to the cold desert nearly barren of life in everyway. His chapped lips parted in a sigh, and he uncurled his fists at each side. A turn toward the halved letter. A sad sight.

Negativity, time and time again, latched itself into the King, chewing this thoughts so that only its teeth were in his mind, dragging him down to his knees in the snow and dirt. He neared the fallen letter once again.

If the Ace of Spades had no doubt, hunched over that exact note in the dark recesses of the Spadian library, away from the King, his own brother, to sneak and send his condolences across the land, then begone to those nauseous mutterings of the stomach.

Yes, indeed, it was Ace Matthew's arrow that pierced Jack Dmitri's throat. Matthew did not elate in his 'victory' in his letter. His proceeding cry of horror over what he done was drowned by Ivan's own hollering to his Knights, as he hunched over his Jack's fallen body, to hold back. To stop war before it started. To stop the bloodshed.

Ivan plucked the halves of the letter from the floor, and placed the twins beside one another again on the main table before the fireplace, giving them a small pat as if to apologize.

"Brother."

The King started, wiped it from his face, and turned toward the doorway. His younger sister, a compact yet powerful woman, Natalia, Lady of Clubs, poured her slate, ever-distant stare into his own. Typical discomfort pricked Ivan's spine, but she and the oldest, Irunya, were the last of Clubian Royalty. Ivan needed them now more than ever.

Ivan told her, "The palace is so quiet, I almost forgot there was anybody else here."

Scoffing at his lame attempt of humor, Natalia narrowed her gaze, sending a wave of distraught over her brother. "Enough of this self-pitying. You're a King."

"Natalia, I'm not-"

"Whatever you call it. Don't give me that look. It's pathetic. You're supposed to be the man of the palace! Dmitri has been dead for more than a week, and you made no move to replenish his place...and the Queen's."

Ivan pulled a sour smile. He opened his mouth, but his sister snuck in, "I could be a greater man than you at this point."

Waiting a moment, in case she was not done, Ivan gave his head a small shake of disbelief. "You could be a greater man than me at any point, my dear sister."

Natalia lifted her chin, not quite smiling, but she was pleased enough with the truth. A step forward, and Ivan felt himself tense. As habit, loyalty, or whatever odd reason, she would cling to his arm as a full grown woman, as she done when they were children, but they were both in the midst of trying to change themselves.

Murphy's law kept Ivan bound, shackled and tied.

She veered to the other side of the table.

Yet in this down time, optimism sank its claws into the stone walls, not dead yet, to begin to climb again.

Natalia's eyes glimpsed over the ripped letter before finding an interesting spot on the wall. "When will you start looking?"

"I am not simply going to bump into my Queen or Jack on the streets. There will be parties. Discreet gatherings."

"Bar visits?"

"Of course."

A nod. Approved. Begrudgingly. "You will need a Jack, first."

"Yes. Perhaps they will surface with my Queen."

"That would make us lucky."

It is said Jacks are the beginning and the end of the line, the bind that keeps a King to a Queen, and them to the thrones. Without a Jack, how could a King find their Queen? How could a Queen breathe life into their King? No random citizen could be capable of sensing these attachments, or loose ends that could be tied to a full deck. Ivan needed someone special.

He put in, after second thought, "If I find my Queen first, Club's luck would turn for the better. It shouldn't take a Jack to see that."

Natalia muttered, "You should still find both."

"I know that!"

~.~

Scorching heat rose from the desert dirt, yet once the Sun went down, the Clubian countryside plunged into bitter winds, bitter cold. Ivan hated the cold. Yet the brightness burned his eyes. It was a cruel land, but even the unforgiving ground could find room in its heart-space to nurse stubborn plants. He appreciated their efforts.

Most Clubians stayed inside for the night. He did not blame them.

Although it had not completely cooled off yet, Ivan pulled a thick coat closer to himself, glancing around the barren road before hurrying from the palace grounds. His sisters did not like it when he went out without them, or at least a few guards. Yet what use were guards, to scare away rats when their King, at least a head taller than all of them, could do it himself?

Past hardy trees, trails winding into town roads branched from the palace's island oasis. Roads mingled with the main river, feeding the Kingdom. It could be worse, Ivan knew that; Spades set its palace on top of a damn mountain! Yes, nestled in the pocket of this little river, the luck of the land made sure Clubs lasted across the desert days.

The eyes of nocturnal creatures glared from the undergrowth, some shrinking in fright, others offering a warning hiss to the man bustling through. Town was quiet - those that lingered outside tossed a suspicious eye to Ivan hunched in the fluffy collar of his coat.

No guards, no parade, who was that man?

They didn't know, and that was all for the better.

It was a peaceful walk to the closest bar for some gossip, or a good memory, without swiping at too many bugs. The doors were locked. The lights were still on. Ivan considered punching on the window, but he was not _that_ thirsty.

Movement. Someone in an apron hustled over and clicked the lock. "Uh, sir!" His face was red, eyes just done drowning themselves, "I'm sorry, but now it is not a good time. There's a fire down the block, I just got word from my sister-"

Ivan glanced over, and sure enough, a column of smoke mingled into the dusk sky. Oh. He must have not been paying attention, perhaps a bit thirstier than he thought. One side of his mouth automatically pulled down at the potential scourge ravishing his already dry land, and he hurried to its gloomy summon.

Of course, there was the obligatory crowd of concerned onlookers decorating every disaster, gaping at the plumes of smoke instead of being smart and keeping away. A few others threw buckets of water at the mess, feebly running back and forth between the house and river. Ivan's nails sank into his palms when glass shattered, unleashing flames from a downstairs window. People yelped, and scrambled to get away. Finally.

The front door bursted open, and some people cried over that, others rushing to meet a couple of lawmen yanking a hysterical woman from the flames.

"No! No!" She wailed, covered in soot and parts of her skin were blistered, "My baby boy! He's still in there!"

Ivan felt something in his chest plummet to the unforgiving sand. The lawmen exchanged a frightened look, obviously having enough of the smoke for themselves. Their King, unbeknownst to them, took deep swigs of fresh air while he had it before stepping through the crowd. People seemingly flinched and automatically keeled from his broad self.

Now, he wasn't keen on big heroic scenes, but for the Gods' sake, he wouldn't leave a child to burn to death if he happened to be at the right place and the right time. The police look up to his approach, hands falling to their belts to signal for him to get back - blissfully ignorant that he was no ordinary onlooker - but a woman darted from an offset of the crowd, behind their backs, and into the house before they had a chance to react.

The lawmen whipped around, leaving Ivan to gape after her and her long locks flapping behind herself as if to dare, "Chase me! Chase me!"

"No!" Ivan snapped over the roar of the flames and the officers' hollers of anger and fright. They turned to him, evidently blaming him for letting one get away, even though no words were shared. Who could tell the law off? Oh, wait, the King could.

Ivan produced a bronze pocket watch tucked in one of the depths of his coat. A clover etched in the metal glinted against the flames.

"S-sire!" Their fists clamped against their chests. Some even looked to be ready to acquaint their knees to the sand. "A woman has just-"

"Leave her. She chose to go in there. She will be at the mercy of the fire. That is her decision."

"What would you like for us to do in the meantime...sire?"

"Are you joking? There is a fire! In the desert heat, this could spread so easily! Get bowls or buckets, anything to carry water instead of just standing there!"

"Yes, sir! Please, step back for your own safety!"

The Clubians immediately scrambled. Ivan swung his head side-to-side before turning his gaze to the flames. Low on luck, there was not anything particularly flashy he could do. His people came back, panic plaguing their faces as their various buckets dribbled trails into the begging dirt. He held a hand up, then gestured around, "Aim for the base of the flames! Here, and here! Go in groups of four; two at once! Do not dump your water all at the same time!"

Fortunately, Clubians worked better when they had someone yelling orders at them. As they should. Ivan nodded to a young man hustling with _two_ buckets, but quickly frowned as the gate to the rear yard swung open. The fire-woman again.

She looked flustered, but determined as she pulled a young child in her arms. The flames tried their hand, but they were no match for her. Another woman screeched, coming forth with her hands out and collapsed in the sand. Smiling through soot and sweat, the flame-walker crouched to gift the boy back to his mother. He stirred, whining in fright, and took in big bouts of fresh air, and began to cry. He was okay.

An odd sensation churned in Ivan's stomach at the sight. A young Clubian lives because of this woman. Yet...

She straightened, throwing a careless hand to her now-frayed locks as sharp green eyes flickered around the people bustling, a beautiful moment before she launched toward another lady struggling with a bucket.

Ivan rushed to meet her, but she shoved by, stunting herself as someone else tossed their water at a column of smoke, before doing the same for hers. Back again. "Stop!" He held out a hand. "I would like to speak to you."

"No! The fire is still ongoing!"

Ivan could only chuckle and hang back. The house slowly grew into a mess of dark plumes easing themselves into the night sky. The fire had been put out. People tackled the wood still glowing and threatening to smolder.

The fire-walker pushed her bucket into the hands of an adolescent and pointed to a certain spot, giving him encouragement and orders. Ivan got goose bumps just thinking about it. She straightened, locking eyes with the King, and almost smirked.

"Am I in trouble, oh, great King?"

Ivan let loose a baffled laugh. Nobody spoke to him like that. How refreshing, against the smoke. "What you did was either very reckless, or very brave."

The woman cocked a hand to her hip, stealing breath when she was covered in soot, "Since I made it out alive, let's call it an act of bravery, and leave it at that."

"I agree." A moment of silence, then Ivan had to ruin it, "You are a very beautiful and sturdy woman, Miss..."

"Elizabeta." A lurid giggle. "You know my husband. Roderich Edelstein? He plays-"

"At The Lazy Aristocrat every Thursday night, yes."

Damn, she was married.

Oh, double damn! Ivan knew her husband! He liked to watch Roderich sway over that piano. Perhaps a bit too much.

"He'll be seeing you at the end of next month."

Ivan liked this wild woman before him. Perhaps a bit too much.

"Yes, a big, fancy gathering."

"It suits him."

"I would like the both of you to be there."

Elizabeta matched the King's grin. "I'll even wear a dress for you."

"Wonderful. Help our people with the rest of this mess."

"Of course, sire!" Elizabeta snickered as she hopped to it, her lovely waves bouncing along with her.

Ivan sighed to himself as he turned to the Clubians watching him with undisguised distraught, distrust, and dissociation. He could only pull a pained smile to comfort them like the hopeless romantic he found himself becoming.

~.~

_'Dearest Matthew Jones, Ace of Spades,_

_Your letter is, I admit, unexpected, appreciated, but unnecessary. I do not hold any negative feelings toward your actions. Dmitri brought his own demise. I, too, do not wish for bloodshed and war between our Kingdoms. However, Dmitri is a traitor to my Kingdom and proved to be a problem spread to Spades. I do not wish to prolong any talk or backlash on his behalf. Nobody else was hurt during this misunderstanding. Let that be the end._

_If you wish to speak of happier times and thoughts, I welcome you to do so. I look forward to any letter you send my way._

_Thank you,_

_King Ivan Braginsky_

_Clubs.'_

~.~

"Tonight is going to be a good one. I can feel it."

"It better be." Natalia tottered on a ladder's top step. "I'm not stringing up all these lights and crap for it to be a flop."

Irunya worried from below, gripping the ladder, "Careful!"

Ivan shook his head, chuckling to himself. One of the sparse guards wandered in his direction to snap a salute. "Sire!"

"And what might you need?"

"To give you an update. There is already a gathering outside the palace. They seem excited to enter."

Ivan let loose a gasp, then cursed himself. Right in front of the guard. The guard simply blinked. Good. "They can stay excited for a little bit longer as I will be doing." He smiled and waved his Knight away.

"Do you hear that?" Ivan asked his sisters. "Let us get these decorations up and running, double time!"

A wad of lights landed right on his head, crowning him in wire and tiny bulbs. Natalia glared from her perch.

Ivan took the strings and sheepishly went for another ladder.

~.~

Roderich kept staring at the King from across the parlor. If he weren't trickling those ivories or being dragged into dance by his wife (who was clad in gorgeous jade green dress for once), his eyes dug into Ivan's over his _n_ th flute of champagne. It was not a murderous kind of look, luckily for both parties, but it was not a 'I'd certainly like to eat you up right now' kind of look either.

All those handsomely suited men (Roderich even sported a spiffy deep green cravat), all those lacey, ordained women dancing and prancing, doing anything for a glimpse from the King, brought the desire to eat up. Oh, and there were also the normal appetizers along the back wall.

A shame to Roderich, but the way his dear Elizabeta discovered and rediscovered their King again and again, fleeting and swirling in a whirlwind of luxurious brunette waves and that green, green dress, those strong shoulders, the devious glint in her verdant eyes, Ivan may just get what he wanted sooner than later.

Yet, she always found her husband again. Their heads bent close. A secret. A flicker of eyes in the King's direction. Ivan was momentarily distracted by a busty woman offering a deep bow. The hem of her dress may have been a bit too low, too daring if certain parts wanted to stay with her. He had to smile. He did not want anybody else.

Roderich and Elizabeta were gone. Ivan blinked, straightening over the seas of feathers, hats, and...a fake peacock on someone's head? He eased, putting on a smile as another couple approached to pay their respects.

"I know you've been watching my wife."

Ivan almost jumped. Almost. He waited until Roderich stepped into his side view. A nearby Knight eyed his proximity with a hand on his hilt.

"And I know you've been watching me, dear Roderich."

Roderich pushed the glasses falling down his near-perfect nose with a subtle offended bat of the eyes. "As the centerpiece of this gathering...what the King wants, the King usually gets."

"You would let me?"

" _Let_ you, sire?" Roderich unleashed a dainty cough, like he would break under anything worse. "Perhaps if she was something that belonged to you."

Ivan eyed the man for a long moment. He broke into a toothy smile from the sight. "That means I would have to ask your wife for your company for the night, then, too, yes?"

A glance around the room. Nervousness. Beautiful. The apple of Roderich's throat bobbled, but his pretty face remained unfazed. "Yes, of course, but I wanted to let you know something."

"Anything, Roderich."

"I may sound a tad insane, but I could fathom a connection between you and Elizabeta."

Ivan amused the piano man, "Oh, yes, I can fathom that, too."

A sharp side-look. "Something much more deeper than a physical level. I feel...a pull between you two. More like..." Roderich stood there, stumped for a moment. Ivan let him. "You may not realize how attached you two act when you are mere acquaintances. Some could say it's improper."

"How much have you drank so far?"

Roderich lowered his head, cheeks turning rosy, "Enough thank you."

Ivan lifted a hand to trace a fingertip across the blush plaguing Roderich's porcelain-doll face. "Are you a jealous man, Roderich?"

"Of my wife, sire?"

"Would you rather be at my side?"

Roderich snapped his attention to the King. Ah, that wide-eyed look was sweet as honey. "That is beside the point. I'm not-"

"I like you, Roderich."

The man immediately clamped shut.

"The way you lose yourself to your music, dragging everyone down with you. A beautiful distraction. You have tastes of a royal for a supposed simple piano man. You fooled them all."

Roderich affixed his gaze on something distant across the room. "What do you say to your other guests?"

"'I hope you are enjoying yourselves...now let me alone.'"

Ivan waited until his company mused a slight uplift of the lips before continuing, "I like Elizabeta. A very strong woman. Stronger than me, in some ways, perhaps?"

Nothing. Roderich waited.

"Why don't I see you _both_ tonight?"

Roderich took a deep breath, blinking to keep expressions away. Finally, he managed in a low voice against the background chatter, "You certainly live up to your ambitious reputation."

"So?"

"I will need to speak to Elizabeta about it."

~.~

"Coffee, miss?"

"Yes, black," Natalia did not look at the servant speaking to her. A figure flounced by the breakfast nook, and she slowly lifted her head. "Who was that."

The servant cleared his throat, eyes darting around wood floors. "One of the King's friends, miss."

" _One_ of them?!" Natalia slammed her mug down, sloshing hot coffee all over the counter, even onto her hand. She did not react.

"Y-yes, miss?"

"Just what we need. Foolish gaggles to pull the King's attention and muck up the place!"

A brunet man paused by the doorway, eying Natalia with drowsy violets, "I rather you not refer to my wife as a foolish gaggle. Thank you."

"Be quiet. Where is the King?"

"Do you want me to be quiet, or do you want to know where the King is?"

Natalia turned to her cup, as if it would nod along to her distraught, "This is exactly what I mean about foolish people. Brother makes use of you once, and now you walk around like you're on top of everything."

"Not necessarily, but over the night, we have discovered many things we would like to know about one another-"

Natalia clamped her palms over her ears.

Roderich managed a light chuckle, "It has been an experience to meet you, Natalia. I hope our next meeting is more pleasant."

"There won't be a next one! Just go away already!"

"What the King wants, the King gets, and he calls for a Queen and Jack to fill his sides."

With that, Roderich followed after his wife.

Natalia sat at the breakfast nook, not paying any mind to the servant taking a step, another step, and then darting out of the dining room. Reality dawned on her with a furious, "Gods damn it! I hope Brother does not intend to make that fruity piano man his Queen."

~.~

There were other parties, fancy gatherings, excuses to put on obnoxious dresses and suits and hats. However, they proved superficial. Men and woman fervently bowed, danced, called for the King's affections, but he just smiled them away.

If luck would have it, he would have two soft bodies in his bed that night.

And if that were to be a streak of fortune in his hand, King Ivan would have a full deck sooner than later.

**Author's Note:**

> Jack Dmitri is just an OC. Not too important. But you? You are important. ;)


End file.
